When It All Falls Apart
by You'llRememberMe
Summary: Morgan knows something is up with Emily and he's determined to find out what it is.  Will everything Prentiss has worked so hard to protect fall apart all around her? Pre 'Valhalla'. Alternate "Doyle arc" for 6x17-18. NOW COMPLETE! Reviews are much loved!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is my very first Criminal Minds fic. I hope I did okay... Ah! I'm so nervous about posting this! Please tell me how I did!**_

_**This takes place after "Coda" and before tonight's episode. It's just a version of something I'd like to see.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds. But I can't wait to watch it! I'm addicted to it!**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Derek Morgan wasn't easily fooled. As a profiler, his job was to uncover what an unsub was hiding, what dirty little secrets they kept oh-so close. He did this when he had a case, and even when he didn't. Today he did not.

There was an unspoken agreement among the team not to profile one another, but it had been broken on several occasions. Like when he'd been arrested for murder back in Chicago. Sometimes they didn't even know when they were profiling each other, it just happened, but this time he knew exactly what he was doing.

He knew, as he drove his car down the streets of D.C., that he was purposely profiling a teammate, a friend. There was something off though. Not all was well in Quantico. So for a few days he'd been, well, _prying _into her life. Always asking her what she'd been doing, whom she'd been with over the weekend, and she'd never answered. Not once.

There was no doubt in Derek's mind that Emily Prentiss was hiding something. Something big.

She'd been increasingly evasive, which in turn spiked his curiosity. She'd gone out of her way to avoid him. The only time they were ever in the same room these days was when it was absolutely necessary. Even then, it was difficult to get her to even speak to him. She wouldn't do so unless he asked her a question, or if she noticed Hotch getting suspicious. Derek could tell that their unit chief was wondering the same thing he was: what did Prentiss get herself into?

Days went by as he noticed Prentiss's behavior get stranger and stranger. At first, around the time of the case that ended in Spokane, she was only a little secretive. That, however, was weeks ago. Plenty of time for things to change, for problems to progress into a full-blown crisis. Then, she started canceling plans she had with him. Every time a particularly unpleasant case ended, he, Prentiss, Reid and Garcia would go out for drinks. Well, unless they worked the next day. Finally, once the case with the autistic boy ended, she had begun avoiding the team outside _and _inside work.

At first, when he used to ask what was up with her, she'd gently tell him to lay off, that it was personal. But, as the weeks went by, saying something was "personal" held less and less meaning; it just became a flimsy excuse, like a kid telling their teacher they left their homework at home when they really just didn't do it. Now, when he asked her about her "personal" problem, she'd snap at him, telling him to mind his own business. Tell him that it was none of his concern, that she could handle things just fine. So he tried to refrain from asking these days, but sometimes the part of him that was suspicious cop would get the better of him. Either way, evasive or not, she'd still been the same Prentiss. Always the agent, but now, never the friend.

As he drove closer to his destination, he wondered if the distance she was putting between herself and everyone else had a reason. She must've had some sort of motivation for avoiding everyone. It couldn't just be random, because just a few weeks ago they'd been one team, not a team plus one agent. She was separating herself from the rest of them for a _reason. _He only hoped that this "reason" was benign.

Derek knew that he was the nosy one. Out of all the other agents in the BAU, he was the one who was always pushing for answers. The one who wouldn't let it go. Both Hotch and Rossi were fine to let Prentiss's problem slide, for now, but Derek wouldn't -_couldn't-_ let it go. Especially once Prentiss started refusing to go anywhere with him on a case. She was always partnered with either Reid or Rossi now. He suspected that it was because he kept pushing her for answers.

Those were the things that made him jump in his car earlier that night and start driving. Where to? He hadn't known at first. He'd only been thinking about needing to get away from work for a while. Though, as he pulled into a parking lot of an apartment building far from his own home, that ended up being exactly what he kept thinking about. He'd wanted to get away from the suspicion in the BAU as of late, but had ended heading right to the heart of it.

He got out of his car, locked it, and headed into the building. Within minutes he was standing in front of a door that lead into an apartment he knew to be Emily's. He knocked a few times, waited for a minute or two, but didn't hear any response from inside. Derek frowned; rummaging in his pocket for a spare key that Emily had given him upon JJ's departure. She'd told him that JJ used to feed her cat when she needed to leave town, but now that she'd gotten that promotion to the Pentagon she needed someone else to do it. There hadn't been an occasion that he'd needed to use it yet; the team had been so busy with cases lately that there was little time to leave D.C. when they were around. While he searched for the key, he heard another door nearby open. He looked up, down the hall a young woman had emerged from her home.

She had red hair that was cut short and was in a robe and slippers, staring at him curiously. She knew that her neighbor, while rarely home, had a few visitors from time to time, but she'd never seen this man before. The woman smiled to herself, it was about time that her neighbor had gotten a boyfriend. She'd started to think that she had renounced men altogether.

She took a few steps toward Derek, "Can I help you with something, sir?"

Derek looked around for a few moments, didn't see Emily anywhere, and held up his badge, which he still had on his person along with his gun. "SSA Morgan, FBI. Have you seen the woman that lives in this apartment anywhere?"

The woman's eyes widened in surprise. FBI? What were they doing here? "I haven't seen her, Agent. She left a few weeks ago and I haven't seen her come by since."

A few weeks? Derek's mind was racing, rapidly firing theories and scenarios. Why would Emily leave her apartment and not come back? What were the reasons for that? Suddenly, Derek remembered the woman standing before him. "Thank you, ma'am, your help is appreciated." _Your help is appreciated? _Now he just sounded like an unconcerned asshole, but he was too preoccupied to care. His thoughts were full of ideas on where Prentiss could've gone. She had to be in town because of work, but where _was_ she?

Derek made his way back to his car. He couldn't even begin to understand his colleague's reasons for everything she'd done recently, but he _would _find out. He pulled his cell phone from the depths of his pocket and typed in Prentiss's number without even looking. He knew his teammates numbers like the back of his hand. The phone rang twice before she picked up.

"Prentiss," Was all she said.

"Emily, where are you?" He asked, "I stopped by your place, but your neighbor said you left _weeks _ago?"

He could practically _feel _her grow distant, even over the phone. When she spoke, her voice was cold, detached, "What were you doing at my apartment, Morgan?"

"Look, I know something's up," Derek got right to the point, "and I want you to know that you can tell me. No matter how bad you think it is."

"Nothing's wrong." She said quickly, "Now leave me alone. I'm tired and want to go to bed, you should too. It's late."

"Don't try and change the subject, Princess. This has been going on for too long. Where are you?"

She sighed, "The Holiday Inn on Seventh Street. I'll meet you in the lobby, don't let anyone see you." Then she hung up.

Derek threw his phone onto the passenger seat. This whole thing smelled fishy. At least now he'd find out what the "thing" in question actually was.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Some time later, Emily Prentiss found herself pacing in the lobby of the Holiday Inn in her pajamas. She'd found it much easier to sleep once she left her apartment, not that it came easy to begin with. It still took hours for her to fall asleep, even if she was only half-asleep the whole time.

Then, at a quarter to midnight, the front door to the hotel opened, and in walked a suspicious Derek Morgan. He spotted her and started walking over. Emily didn't move from her spot, she waited till Morgan caught up with her before she started back to her room.

"What's with-" Morgan started only to be cut off by a silencing motion from Emily.

She approached the door, looked both ways as if crossing a busy intersection then opened it. She quickly ushered Morgan inside, not wanting anyone to see him enter. Hopefully, no one did.

"Now we can talk," Emily said. She moved to sit in one of the chairs provided by the hotel. Morgan sat opposite her, he laid his forearms on the small table between them and leaned forward, a question was evident in his eyes.

Emily sighed, "I know I've been a bitch, but I've had some... troubles in my life recently." She saw that Morgan was getting ready to ask a question, and, anticipating what it was, cut him off, "I can't tell you about it."

"Prentiss," Morgan said, "I told you: No matter how bad you think it is, you can tell me. The team and I," Morgan hesitated for a moment, "we've noticed the changes in you, and we're just trying to help."

"I know, I know..." Emily looked away, "But you have to understand, I really _can't _tell you what's going on right now. Not yet."

"What _can _you tell me?" Morgan was beginning to get frustrated with all the crap. He hated beating around the bush.

Emily took a deep breath, "I can tell you that... some old friends of mine are in town, and we're not all on the best of terms right now."

Morgan snorted, "That's nothing, Emily, and you know it."

"Then I guess there's really nothing I can tell you. Except," Emily locked gazes with him, "be careful."

Morgan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Why would she be telling him to be careful? Was the team in danger? Was _she _in danger? Suddenly it all fell into place. Her erratic behavior, the distance, the abandoned apartment. If she was being threatened, it was only logical that she'd try and keep her team, her friends, safe. He should've seen it coming.

"Prentiss," he lowered his voice, "are you in-"

"Shhh!" She glanced around wildly, weeks of paranoia and lack of sleep getting the best of her. Even if he suspected something, there was no way she could ever tell him about Doyle. "No," she added, then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded her head ever so slightly. Morgan caught it, his years of training kicking into gear.

He put on an angry face, wanting to make anyone who might be listening or watching believe his act. "Alright, if you're not going to tell me a damn thing, then I'm leaving." He stood abruptly, and the chair scraped against the floor.

"Goodbye, Morgan," Emily caught on. She didn't say anything else, she only lowered her gaze.

Morgan stormed towards the door. Slowly, Emily stood and followed. They exited the room together, but Emily stayed in the hall, just outside her room.

"Oh, and Morgan?" Emily called and he turned around, "I-"

_BANG!_

A gunshot sounded just as Morgan was turning. He moved just in time to see her spin around due to the force of the bullet. She cried out in pain and fell against the wall opposite her room, slid down it, leaving a streak of crimson on the beige wall. Morgan had pulled his gun as soon as the shot went off. Not caring about his own safety, he ran towards his fallen co-worker. When he reached her she was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a wound to the left side of her chest, just above her breast.

"Shit," Morgan whispered. He set his gun down and pushed both of his hands down on the gaping hole. Scarlet blood seeped through his fingers, pumped out of Emily's body to the rhythm of her heart, which was quickly fading. "C'mon, Prentiss," he coaxed, "stay with me." The only thing that kept his hopes up was the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Emily's chest.

He decided to take a risk. He took both hands of his friend's injury to quickly strip off his jacket. He balled it up and pressed it against the wound. He removed his left hand so he could search in his pocket for his phone, only to remember that he'd left it in his car. "Shit!"

Placing his hand back where it had been previously, Morgan had to resign to the old fashioned way of getting help. "HEY!" He shouted into the seemingly empty hallway, "HELP! Somebody call 911!"

Fortunately, the temporary residents of the rooms next to Emily's had heard the gunshot and Morgan's cries for help. Soon, a middle-aged man of Chinese origin poked his head out the door. "Call 911!" Morgan practically screamed at him, not bothering to think that maybe he was actually from China and didn't speak English. Another stroke of good luck graced them when the man nodded in understanding. He disappeared into his room again.

Morgan turned his attention to Emily, whose skin was now deathly pale. Right then, Morgan was overcome with something he recognized as pure terror. He couldn't handle the thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd lose yet another friend. "C'mon! You can't die on me now!"

It seemed, at that time, that the powers-that-be were currently favoring them, because soon Morgan could hear shouts throughout the building. He saw an older man approaching.

The man's head appeared to be shaved. Little strands, not even an inch long, of gray hair could be seen on his scalp. He was tall and thin, and had a disquieting resemblance to George Foyet. Morgan couldn't squash the feeling that something was off about this guy.

"What happened?" The man asked, bending down as if to help.

"She was shot." Morgan stated, unwilling to tear his attention from Emily for longer than a moment.

"Dear God, that's awful," The man sounded horrified, but there was something about his tone. He sounded like he was... thrilled.

"Did you see any emergency vehicles around? Cops? An ambulance?" Morgan asked. He raised his eyes from Emily's nearly still body to meet the eyes of the man before him.

The man he'd thought wanted to help held a gun pointed straight at Morgan. He smiled a little, cocked the gun, and then he asked, "Are you still angry with her for not telling you the truth? She only did it to protect you, you know. Too bad you were too much of a cop for your own good."

Morgan continued to stare at him. The alpha male in him refused to back down. Unfortunately the other man was the same way. "Oh," he said, "My name's Ian, by the way."

Besides the man's words, the only thing on Morgan's mind when the trigger was pulled were thoughts of Emily. Emily and whatever the hell it was she'd gotten them all into. He could only hope they'd survive to find out.

Then, in a flash of pain, everything went black.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**I'm going to leave you to decide what YOU think happened. I'll leave this just how it is and mark it as complete unless any of you guys want a second chapter. PLEASE LET ME KNOW! Reviews really do make my day!**_

_**I hope my very first CM story was okay!**_

_**PS: I have high hopes for the next episode in... AH! OMG! like ten minutes!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: I'm so sorry for my ridiculous refusal to update this story after the events of the Doyle/Prentiss arc! It was stupid and... yeah, it was stupid. Though, I am STILL trying to get over Emily not being on the show anymore. It's just sooooo sad..._**

**_Anyway, this chapter is the longest I've ever written. EVER._**

**_I hope it's good enough to apologize somewhat for the wait. And I realize that a lot of people might not want to read this anymore since the Doyle/Prentiss thing is long over. But just think of it as an alternate episode. It's something that I WISH had happened._**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds. If I did Ashley Seaver would've been shot on that rooftop and Morgan would've shot Doyle and then Emily wouldn't have had to pretend to be dead.**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_Sirens wailed._

_Red and blue lights colored the night._

_Feet pounded upon the pavement._

_Two bodies were wheeled out the doors of a hotel._

_One body was wheeled into the awaiting coroner's van._

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, diligently filing endless stacks of paperwork. He stopped what he was doing for a moment, lost in thought. It was times like this when he missed JJ most. Paperwork to her was like shooting a gun on the firing range to him. She'd always been the best at it, the most thorough. Sometimes he used to think, when he passed her office and saw her hard at work, that it was her release. An escape, of sorts. Hence the comparison between himself and JJ. Thinking of her sent a pang of loss through him, but he was slowly becoming accustomed to coming to work everyday and seeing her empty office. They hadn't found anyone qualified enough to fill her slot yet.

A bitter taste filled Hotch's mouth. _Yet. _They hadn't found anyone _yet. _It was only a matter of time before Strauss would step in, demanding to fill the unoccupied position. She would do it herself, and once she did, there would be no way of getting JJ back. That was the cause of the bitterness. The day she left, Hotch had promised to do everything in his power to get her back. But what had he done, really? Nothing, that's what. That didn't mean he hadn't tried. Countless times he'd broached the subject with Strauss, with any of his superiors, only to be turned down again and again.

Soon, after banishing these thoughts, Hotch had resumed his work only to be interrupted by a knock on the door not two minutes later. He didn't even have time to say anything before David Rossi was standing in front of his desk. Hotch looked up at him curiously; Rossi usually had better manners. Usually.

"Yes?" Hotch questioned, still seated behind his expensive, Bureau-funded desk.

"We've got a case." Rossi threw a thin, manila folder onto the desktop, making a few of his papers scatter in the process.

Hotch stood immediately, but he didn't bother opening the folder just yet. He simply fell into step with his colleague as they strode out of his office. He could sense something was off, and had the sinking feeling that Rossi knew more than he was letting on. After all, the cases usually came to Hotch now, in JJ's absence, not Rossi.

"Fill me in, Dave."

The older agent's shoulders stiffened, his back straightening to the point of discomfort. "One dead so far. At the Holiday Inn on 7th."

Hotch's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Only one death? Then why were we called in?"

"We weren't," Rossi stated flatly. "Strauss ordered the BAU to investigate."

This new information only contributed to the sinking feeling he'd had since Rossi had burst into his office. "Why?" He wondered aloud.

"I guess we're about to find out." Rossi stopped just short of where he'd led them. They now stood just outside the door to Strauss's lair.

Again, Rossi didn't bother waiting for anyone to invite him inside. Hell, he didn't even knock this time; he just pushed open the door and waltzed right in. His prior history with Strauss giving him a bit of immunity against her attempts at retribution for perceived offenses.

The two agents strode into the office only to find that Strauss was waiting for them. Her hands were folded neatly on her organized, dark-wood desk, and she wore a peculiar expression on her face. It was an expression that Hotch was very familiar with by now. She only wore it when she had to deal with something, or some_one, _extremely unpleasant in her opinion.

"Good morning, Agent Rossi. Agent Hotchner." Strauss inclined her head slightly and gestured with her hands to the two identical seats in front of her. "Please, sit."

"What's going on, Erin?" Rossi didn't need to have years of experience to know when something was up. He and Hotch both ignored the chairs Strauss had offered, instead preferring to stand. It was their way of gaining an edge when interrogating a suspect, and they used that technique now.

"Very well," Strauss said. She saw what they were trying to do and stood as well, a deep frown of disapproval on her face. She leaned down and picked up a manila folder identical to the one Rossi had given Hotch. She handed it to the latter, not knowing that he'd already received one.

Hotch didn't open the folder. He wanted to hear this from Strauss. He wanted to hear the tone of her voice, every tremble and every pause. It was all important to discovering the reason she had for insisting that the BAU investigate.

"Well," Strauss sighed, "there has been an attack at a local hotel. I believe it is connected with a string of murders in the D.C. area."

"Only one body was found at the scene," Hotch interjected. "What is it that connects the cases?" He was curious now. Curious as to what made these murders so special that his team had to be called in.

"Yes, there was only one dead from the attack at the hotel," Strauss confirmed.

"Then what's the connection?" Dave asked, his patience finally wearing thin. His eyes were steely, his voice chilly. He was already anticipating something bad. Why else would the BAU be called? It had to be something big.

Strauss looked at them each in turn, holding their gazes for as long as she dared. "The connection is a European terrorist."

Rossi arched an eyebrow, "One murder at a hotel hardly seems like a terrorist attack." He crossed his arms over his chest, demanding further explanation.

Strauss shook her head and Hotch, understanding what she hadn't explained, filled in the blanks, "The terrorist is the murderer. He has an agenda, but it's not one of terror. It's personal." Strauss nodded in confirmation.

Strauss took her seat again, signaling to the others that she was done with this interrogation. "I have someone coming to fill you in," she said, already engrossed in the few papers atop her desk. Then she looked up, "You are dismissed."

The two profilers were reluctant to submit to her wishes so easily. "Why was the BAU _really _called in, Erin?" Rossi inquired. "You and I both know the BAU doesn't profile terrorists, at least not usually."

Hotch remembered when Gideon was still with them and Prentiss had just joined the team. The two of them, along with Reid, had gone down to Guantanamo Bay to profile a Muslim terrorist. It was one of the few exceptions to the usual business of always profiling serial killers and never profiling terrorists. It looked like they were about to have another exception on their hands.

Hotch came out of his nostalgic daze to find that Rossi's question had gone unanswered, and the woman was no longer focused on either himself or Rossi. She was assessing someone just behind them. He didn't have to turn around to know who was there. He recognized her oh-so-familiar perfume, and her voice when she spoke.

"You don't, but Emily did," Jennifer Jareau said as she quickly joined the three agents.

"JJ," Rossi greeted her. He wasn't overly shocked to see her here. He'd known since the day she left that he'd see her again. He just didn't expect it to be so soon. Or was it so late now?

"Hey, guys," JJ said, flashing a quick half-smile. Then she was back to all-business mode.

Before she could say anything, Hotch butted in, "What do you mean 'Emily did'?"

JJ turned to him, an unidentifiable emotion in her clear, blue eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't even get the chance to begin before Strauss interrupted.

"Agents," Strauss's voice was tense when she spoke, "_you are dismissed._" The Section Chief enunciated each word carefully, so as to prevent any more "confusion". She then engaged in a stare down with Hotch, and, for once, she won.

"Before we leave," Hotch began, "I'd like to know why only Rossi and I were told all of this. Where are Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid?"

"Do they even know about the case?" Rossi added dryly. He wouldn't assume that Strauss had decided _not _to go behind everyone's backs. He didn't think she was above it.

Strauss responded willingly, "Dr. Reid is still at his desk, filing some paperwork I gave him after he finished what he already had. Agents Morgan and Prentiss are no longer in the building." Strauss didn't make eye contact as she said this, and that put the other agents into profiling mode again. Then the older woman continued, "I decided to only inform the three of you of the situation until I could ascertain the whereabouts of the others." That's when Strauss decided to lock gazes with Hotch again, initiating a silent argument. With her eyes, Strauss dared him to question her motives.

"I'll ask Reid if he knows where they went." Rossi feigned ignorance well. He was pretending not to know that Strauss had probably already asked the young agent so that he himself could ask and therefore uncover Strauss's ulterior motives, that much Hotch could tell.

"No need," Strauss waved a hand at him, and she was aware of what Rossi intended to do. "I've already had Anderson ask him. He doesn't know where they went. He only remembers seeing Agent Prentiss leave quite suddenly and-"

JJ beat Strauss to it, "And he saw Morgan follow her." She hadn't spoken to Reid since she'd arrived, she'd simply guessed. Knowing Morgan's personality enabled her to predict what he would've done. He had such an overwhelming protective instinct that if he knew something was wrong with a teammate, there was no way he'd just ignore it. No, he'd dive headfirst into someone else's trouble for them. He was a wonderful friend and ally to have, but sometimes he come on a little too strong. Especially since he was one who didn't share anything, and he didn't accept help from others very easily.

"I'm sure they're fine," Rossi interjected. "We can start the briefing without them." Hotch nodded his head in agreement.

Strauss thought about it for a moment, but soon agreed as well. "Miss Jareau can brief you when you get there. Get Dr. Reid and go straight to the crime scene."

Rossi and Hotch were out the door as fast as they could go without being rude. JJ, however, stayed behind.

"Ma'am," JJ's emotionless facade was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Yes, Miss Jareau?" Strauss gave her a quizzical look, and purposely used _'Miss' _as a reminder that JJ was no longer a part of the Bureau and she didn't have the same privileges.

JJ's lips pressed into a thin, tight line, and her beautiful blue eyes blazed with a sudden, unexpected fury. "You're sending them out to that scene without warning them first? I knew you were cold-hearted, but I didn't think you were this bad." If her words hadn't announced her anger, her death-glare did.

"Miss Jareau!" Strauss stood abruptly, and her body language clearly stated that she would not stand to be talked to that way. "I did what I thought was best."

"What you thought was best?" JJ wanted to pummel the older woman for her stupidity. "They should have been warned! You should have told them!" JJ carefully avoided announcing exactly what it was that Strauss should have said. She knew that she could be easily overheard, and she didn't want people finding out that way.

"It would only hinder the investigation. And I want that man caught _now," _Strauss spoke in cold, clipped tones. The 'I' in her statement clearly meant 'the higher-ups'. She crossed her arms over her chest. A deep frown settled on her face, any more display of her distaste for the ex-agent wouldn't befit a woman of her standing.

"If you think them finding out halfway through the case _won't _hinder this investigation, then you're even stupider than I thought!" JJ's seemingly unprovoked anger made her speech careless, it was only after she'd calmed down that she would realize what a grave mistake she made.

Then, JJ turned and stalked over to the door. She yanked it open angrily, and as it shut, she heard Strauss's voice call out to her.

"I hope you realize that you've just ruined any chance you may have had of getting back into the Bureau!" The Section Chief's voice was shrill, having risen several octaves in a sudden burst of tangible anger.

As JJ made her way to the bullpen, she couldn't help but wonder what Strauss's real motives were. She assumed it was another way to put blame on Hotch and get him permanently removed from his position, and therefore getting rid of the serious competition for advancement. JJ was sure that Strauss expected Hotch to break under the pressure, to become unstable when he heard what she was keeping from him. At first glance though, Morgan would be the one most likely to lose it upon discovering the inevitable, but since he was... absent... you had to enter Hotch into the equation. His emotional response when he confronted the Reaper hinted at a side of their fearless leader in direct conflict with his outer image.

The team would investigate this unusual case and eventually uncover what JJ was forced to hide from them. Sure, they'd be more motivated than ever, but when they found their unsub, which JJ was sure they would, someone wouldn't be able to control their emotions. It all fit. Strauss had placed her bet on Hotch, but JJ wasn't so quick to make assumptions.

JJ then found herself standing by Reid's desk in the bullpen. He was looking up at her with a strange expression on his face. It was part concern and part fear. She quickly brought a proverbial mask over her face to conceal her true emotions. It was a mask she used to wear, and still did, many times. It was the very same one she would wear during press conferences, and one she'd apparently forgotten how to use in her time away from the BAU. With the DOD, she didn't do as many press conferences. They had prettier, more talented, and all around better women to do the job. And lots of them. With the DOD, JJ didn't feel needed.

JJ looked down at Reid, attempted a smile, and failed miserably. "Come on, Spence, we've got a crime scene to go to." She grabbed his arm and pulled him up gently from his chair. He was slow to get up, and that's when JJ noticed the dazed look on his face.

She was confused by it at first, but then he asked, "Are you... back?"

To a random eavesdropper the question would seem totally unnecessary, but to any member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit the question was loaded.

JJ let go of her friend and a sad look crossed her face. "No, Spence. I'm only here for this case."

The hope that had just previously been building in Reid's eyes was crushed instantly. The look on his face gave him the impression of a neglected puppy. Upon seeing it, JJ couldn't help but let a small smile curve her lips.

"What about Rossi and Hotch?" Reid asked, moving on from the former, more sensitive subject.

They were walking now, with JJ leading the way. She walked in long, purposeful strides, and Reid struggled to keep up with her. She spared a backward glance at him as they approached the elevator. "They're probably already on their way," she told him. The address, she knew, was enclosed in the case file.

"Well," Reid said as they entered the elevator, "what about Morgan and Prentiss?" He hadn't seen them since they left earlier that night. He was curious as to what they were up to. Prentiss had left in such a hurry, and Morgan had been so angry when he followed her out... Once could only wonder what happened.

JJ's face then did something that never happened in front of Spencer: It closed off completely. Her eyes were blank when she said, "We'll see them later."

Reid cocked his head to one side, further adding to the impression of a puppy dog. This time though, the puppy was confused. He didn't say anything for fear of causing JJ to recede from him even further. She was different now; not that she'd been an open book before. She was distant, no longer the sisterly figure in his life. Rather the estranged friend; there, yet not all at the same time.

The change in her made him sad. He had hoped that whatever she was doing for the Pentagon made her happy. He had hoped that it made her feel accomplished. This change did not support those dwindling hopes. As much as he wanted her back at the BAU, he wanted her to be happy even more. Apparently, that hadn't happened. And yet she still couldn't come back. As the elevator lowered them closer and closer to the Bureau's parking garage and Reid looked at her, he couldn't help thinking that it might as well have been years since he'd seen her, because he barely recognized the former media liaison at all.

A few minutes later, just before the elevator doors opened, JJ turned to him. There was a pleading look on her face. It was so shocking after the distant expression that had been rooted there just seconds ago that when she started to speak, Reid could only stare.

"Look, Reid, I can't tell you everything I know," JJ couldn't seem to make eye contact with him. "But what I can say..."

Just then, right before JJ was going to give up some valuable information, the doors opened. Standing there, in casual clothes and a leather vest, was a man neither JJ nor Reid had ever seen before.

He smiled maliciously, "Hello, Agents." He raised his right hand in what could have been a wave if not for the crowbar in his hand. Neither friend had any time to react before the man pulled back the hand with the crowbar and swung.

The attack was swift, as was the stranger. He went after JJ first, sensing an imminent threat from her for some reason. He hit her over the head with the crowbar just once, but strong enough to knock her unconscious in only seconds. She went down like a sack of potatoes, all dead weight. She lay sprawled on the floor when the man got to Reid. He tried to fend off the attack, but was soon overpowered.

When it was all over, there were two people lying unconscious on the floor of an elevator. Blood seeped from wounds to their heads only to be absorbed by their clothes or pool on the floor around them. All the while, the man that attacked them strolled away, whistling an old, Irish tune to himself as he went.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**MWAHAHAHA! Evil, right? I know :)**_

_**I really hope you guys liked this! And don't forget to show me some love and REVIEW! Reviews are like oxygen :DD**_

_**PS: In this story, there is no Ashley Seaver. At least, I don't think there is. I might've mentioned her in the first chappie, but I don't remember.**_

_**PPS: Did anyone else here that there are talks to bring AJ Cook back to CM? I did! In an interview with MGG, which you can find posted in the "Lauren" discussion thread on Chit Chat on Author's Corner, and then again from TV Fanatic . com!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Alright everybody, I can't even begin to describe exactly how sorry I am for just taking an unannounced hiatus from this story. The truth is this: I'm a sucky updater. I just CANNOT seem to stick to a schedule. I've got like bazillion other stories going on at the moment, and it's just hard to be inspired in the off-season._**

**_Fortunately for you, I refused to let myself write anything else until I'd finished this story. And I have. The next chapter (which is finished!) should be posted depending on the response I get on this one. *fingers crossed it's good!*_**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Criminal Minds, would I be here writing fanfiction? I think not! (I'd be invading Shemar Moore's personal bubble and demanding he get a Twitter! ;P)**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_Four attacks_

_Three men unaware of the crime they were about to stumble on to_

_Two agents unaccounted for and in unknown peril_

_One man to blame_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Rossi and Hotch, oblivious to what had just occurred only a few floors below them, exited their respective offices. They'd each retrieved what they needed from their desks. For Hotch, it was his gun, which he'd discarded when he sat down to begin his paperwork. For Rossi, it was his pocket-sized notebook that he'd stowed away an hour earlier.

"Ready to go?" Rossi asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Hotch as they made their way through the bullpen.

Hotch answered with a question of his own. "Where're JJ and Reid?"

"Probably already halfway there," Rossi replied, and the response was good enough for Hotch.

As they turned a corner, they came upon a frantic agent who happened to be blocking their way. It was Anderson, and he was doing a curiously good impression of the white rabbit form _Alice in Wonderland. _The two profilers even heard him mutter 'I'm late' as they approached.

"Late for what, Agent?" Rossi queried as he and Hotch slowed their pace to stand in front of the young man.

Anderson, who'd been pacing in a small circle just in front of the elevator, froze. After a moment, and without preamble, he spilled, "It's my sister. She went into labor and she wants me there, but when I tried to use the elevator, it didn't work!"

"Why not take the stairs?" Hotch asked somewhat impatiently. He had a case to work, and right then, sister in labor or not, Anderson was only getting in his way.

"I tried!" The younger agent exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "But the maintenance people are cleaning them and won't let anyone use them!"

Rossi chuckled in amusement, "Come on kid." He beckoned Anderson to follow them as he and Hotch moved away, "There are some perks to having a reputation in this building."

As the trio of agents moved toward the stairwell, completely unprepared for what they would see, a man in a leather vest drove away form that very sight and toward a distant hospital. One that had just received victims from a shooting at the very same hotel the agents were headed to.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Two doctors, a man and a woman, walked side by side out of surgery. They didn't speak as they discarded their bloodied gloves and cleaned themselves up a bit. While both of them were young, they'd already had a great deal of heartache in their lives. Working in the ER for any extended amount of time can do that to someone.

Finally, the woman, a blonde, spoke up. "Can you believe it, Jeremy?" She asked, "A shooting at a hotel? A _Holiday Inn, _no less! Have you ever heard of a shooting at a _Holiday Inn? _I know I haven't!"

"Yeah," Jeremy, a brunette with sadness in his deep brown eyes, said tiredly.

"And now the FBI is investigating," she continued in disbelief.

This caught Jeremy's attention. "Really?" He inquired.

The blonde nodded her head enthusiastically, excitement clear in her bright blue eyes, "Oh, yeah. My friend, you know, Shelley? She was one of the paramedics on the scene; she told me that one of the victims was an agent."

Now, the woman's interest in the FBI had sparked curiosity in her companion. He couldn't stop thinking about theories as to why the agent had been shot. And which victim was the agent.

There was a beat of silence while he processed this information. "Hey, Lisa," he called, regaining his friend's attention. "Which one was the agent?" He asked.

"Um," the woman, Lisa, thought for a moment, and glanced down at the trash can she'd thrown her bloody gloves into. It didn't seem to help as a reminder. She shook her head, "I don't know, Jer."

"Well, I sure hope it wasn't that one," Jeremy said, nodding his head in the direction of the operating room.

"Why's that?" Lisa asked as she retrieved her white, hospital-issued lab coat. She grabbed Jeremy's as well and tossed it to him. He caught it easily, and the two proceeded to exit the prep room.

"You saw what that bullet did," Jeremy stated. "It just tore up everything in it's path. No one would be out in the field after something like that; at least, not for a long time. And have you ever heard of an FBI agent content to sit behind a desk?" Lisa shook her head and Jeremy agreed, "Me neither."

"Hey," Lisa began, "what happened to the other victim?"

Jeremy gave her a serious look and shook his head. "It was too late."

"Oh."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"If this guy has a personal agenda, then something had to have triggered him," Rossi said as he, Hotch, and Anderson made their way down the stairs.

"Someone under his employment betrayed him?" Hotch spitballed an idea, "Maybe all the victims were traitors in his mind."

"But that's just it!" Rossi exclaimed in frustration, "We don't know _who _the victims are! This file," Rossi shook the manila folder that was in his grasp, "is incomplete. It's just a dossier on the guy."

"Ian Doyle," Hotch stated, looking at his own copy as they continued to walk down the stairs. "Former IRA, current terrorist. It says he was locked up, found guilty of terrorism and murder, but it doesn't say _where." _The frustration Rossi was feeling was mirrored in Hotch. If this was Strauss' way of trying to undermine him yet again, then she very well may be putting innocent lives at risk. And just for her own personal gain, too.

"There's more to this guy than meets the eye," Rossi said, continuing to ignore Agent Anderson, who was oblivious to it since his eyes were glued to his phone. He appeared to be texting, but you never know these days. A little cell phone could do much more than just text, and the younger generation was known for taking advantage of that.

"I'll have Garcia try and find something on him," Hotch decided, reaching for his own cell phone. It rang twice before the flamboyant analyst answered.

_"Hello," _Garcia's voice sing-songed. _"You have reached the ever-fabulous Penelope Garcia. What can I do for you today, Hotch?"_

"Garcia," Hotch began in his all-business tone. "I need to know whatever you can find on an Ian Doyle. He was involved with the IRA and was brought in by Interpol eight years ago."

_"Gotcha. Anything else?" _Garcia asked.

"Just be quick," Hotch added, not unkindly. "And Garcia? Thank you."

_"No problemo, Boss-man. Just doin' my job." _

The two said their farewells and hung up. Hotch looked at Rossi, "Garcia will get something, but for now, we just have to work with what we've got."

Rossi glanced at Hotch again. "If there's anything on this guy, Garcia will find it," Rossi assured, and Hotch nodded absently in agreement. Something was on his mind, and it was clearly eating at him. Rossi wondered what it was, but didn't ask. Not yet.

Hotch had faith in Garcia. He knew that she was the best. But Doyle had resources, or at least, according to his file he did. His _edited _file.

Suddenly, Hotch was angry. Angry with Strauss and all the other bureaucrats that had a stake in this. There was vital information missing, and that oculd put his team in danger! Being unprepared to face an unsub like this could very well cost them their lives!

"Agent Hotchner!" Anderson called out suddenly, shocking Hotch out of his stupor. At the sound of Anderson's panicked shout he and Rossi were instantly on alert. They were in full-on field-mode.

Somehow, Anderson had managed to get ahead of the two older agents. When they'd stopped to talk to Garcia, he'd continued down the stairs, still texting. So, when Rossi and Hotch finally came down those last few stairs, Anderson was completely blocking whatever it was that had spurred him to yell for them.

"What is it?" Rossi questioned the younger agent as they cautiously moved forward, hands hovering above their holstered guns.

Anderson turned around to look at them, and shakily took a step to his left, revealing what lay ahead...

At first, neither Hotch nor Rossi saw anything unusual. But as they walked even closer, they noticed the first red flag. The doors to the elevator, the one they previously thought to be broken, were attempting to close. But each time, just before they sealed off completely, they opened again. The agents weren't close enough to see if anything was inside, but they did happen to spot what was keeping the elevator from shutting.

It was an arm.

That's when the seasoned BAU agents rushed ahead, leaving Anderson, who remained stock-still and staring, behind them. Moving closer, the owner of the pale, slender arm was revealed.

It was JJ. She was sprawled on the floor of the elevator, one arm outstretched, the one that was blocking the doors. Her blonde hair was splayed in a halo around her head. She could've looked angelic, but the blood leaking from a wound on her temple marred the image.

At first, the sight of the former media liaison shocked the two men so much, that they could do nothing more than stare, like Anderson was. Then, after a few moments passed by, their FBI training kicked in. Hotch took charge, like always, and Rossi didn't protest.

Then they caught sight of a second body. Reid. He was lying on the floor, in a similar fashion to JJ. Except for one thing. His head wound wasn't his only injury. The others could see, by the awkward way his arm was bent that it was broken in at least one spot.

"Rossi, you check on Reid. I'll take JJ," Hotch barked and Rossi complied.

He they rushed over to the young genius, took two fingers, and proceeded to place them on his colleague's neck. There were a few nano-seconds of fervent prayers before Rossi felt Reid's strong heartbeat. He sighed in relief; one less thing to worry about.

He glanced to his right, at Hotch, and found him doing the same to JJ. They made eye contact; Rossi spoke first, "He's alive, but knocked out cold."

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment in gratitude to whatever God was out there. "Same with JJ," he told Rossi, and sighed; who had done this?

"Anderson!" Hotch shouted, "Call an ambulance!" Anderson only blinked a few times, making Hotch increasingly irritated. "_Now!_" Hotch's frustration at the young man shocked him out of his trance-like state. Soon, he was frantically punching numbers on the keypad of his cell phone.

_"911, what's your emergency?" _

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

A few minutes later, the hospital hadn't been far away, the trio of agents -plus the two unconscious ones- heard sirens wail in the distance. It couldn't come fast enough; because Reid and JJ had remained in their comatose states the entire time. No amount of prodding and poking could wake them. It worried their remaining teammates. They had a good idea of when the two had been attacked, and they shouldn't have been out for this long. Not if there weren't any complications. Then again, the weapon used to incapacitate them was the variable in the equation. Depending on what it was, they could've woken up minutes ago, or they could be unconscious for longer still. Either way, the signs didn't point to a happily ever after.

Because no matter what, Reid and JJ had still been attacked. In Quantico. _Just _outside of the BAU. Whoever attacked them, the unsub, was seriously ballsy. He had to be pretty confident, overly cocky, and most likely arrogant as well, to accomplish the task.

"Over here!" Anderson suddenly shouted, and when Rossi and Hotch looked over, they saw him waving his arms unnecessarily. The ambulance had arrived. Well, the ambulanc_es. _Hotch had made sure that Anderson directed them to bring two, due to there being two emergencies.

Four paramedics, two for each stretcher, hurried over to the group in the elevator. As they rushed in, Hotch told them what he knew: The victims had been unconscious for several minutes, one had mostly broken an arm, and they hadn't stirred once. That was it. Neither Hotch nor Rossi knew anything else.

An EMT nodded distractedly, focused on the task at hand. They loaded Reid and JJ onto separate stretchers and began carrying them away. Hotch turned to Rossi, a serious look in his eyes, "Dave, you go with them to the hospital. I'll go to the crime scene. We do still have a case, and as much as I'd like to go with, one of us has to do our job."

"It's alright, Aaron," Rossi assured him, and he believed it. There could very well be lives at stake, and right then, it looked like both Reid and JJ would be okay for a while. "I'll call you when I know something," Rossi finished, briefly resting a hand on Hotch's shoulder before turning away. Hotch watched as his friend jogged to meet up with the paramedics. He saw Rossi get into the one they'd just loaded JJ into before he turned away.

Then he noticed Anderson. The man was still standing there, a weary look in his eyes. He wondered what must be going through his mind. In truth, what Anderson was thinking just then, was that there must be something weird about the primary team. Every time he got involved with them, something bad seemed to happen. First the issue with Elle Greenaway's shooting, and now this. Both were definitely on his list of Worst Days.

"Anderson, go home," Hotch ordered. "Go see your sister. She needs you there more than I need you here." _Lie, _his inner voice told him, but he ignored it. This was _his _case, not Anderson's. _His _team, wherever the hell the rest of it might be, would handle it.

_His team._

It seemed to be falling apart at the seams. First, JJ was transferred, then she came back, now Morgan and Prentiss were unaccounted for and Rossi was on his way to the hospital with a pair of unconscious agents, Reid and JJ. _His team _appeared to be on their way to some sort of hell, and Hotch knew they wouldn't go alone. He knew that, no matter what happened, he'd stick with them to the end. After all, a captain always goes down with his ship.

Anderson didn't protest much, and Hotch was sure that the protests he _did _make were halfhearted at best. He assumed the agent did it out of politeness and professional courtesy. So, Hotch didn't stop him when he left. He knew Anderson wanted to be with his sister, hell, Hotch would've done the same had their roles been reversed.

Then, Hotch shut off the voice in his head, the one that told him something was terribly wrong, and began working the case.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**So, I really hope there are still people interested in reading this! Though I'm thinking there are, seeing as there are still people subscribed to this story...**_

_**I just wanted to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed to this story! It means more to me than I can say :)**_

_**Originally, this chapter was a part of the next chapter, and there were only going to be three chapters in all. But hey, when do my plans ever go according to, well, plan. This was actually supposed to end after chapter one!**_

_**Hey, did anyone hear a rumor that AJ Cook would return to CM as a PROFILER instead of a media liaison? Please tell me no! I like her as a liaison, it's the position they need filled!**_

_**Until next time!**_


	4. The Conclusion

_**A/N: Three words- LONGEST. CHAPTER. EVER! Seriously.**_

_**Now, this is more like a continuation of chapter three than another chapter all together (probably because I wrote it that way), so it doesn't get its own little "intro thing".**_

_**So, I wanted to thank every reviewer, subscriber, favorite-r, and reader for sticking with this story. It really means more than I can say :)**_

**_And another thing: as this is the VERY LAST chapter of this story, I ask that you all take the time out of your day to review and tell me absolutely everything you thought of it. Pretty please?_**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds. If I did, well, I don't think I would ever stop bragging ;P**

**As always, ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

The ambulances had arrived at the hospital at least thirty minutes ago, and Rossi was still in the waiting room. He'd sat there, and waited patiently for answers for what felt like hours. He hadn't been able to follow where they'd taken Reid and JJ, but was told to wait outside instead. So he took a seat in the corner and waited.

He was separated from the rest of the people waiting in the room, but could see them out of his peripheral vision. He didn't really care to pay much attention to them. All he really cared about was making sure his friends would be okay.

Then, just as the eleventh minute of waiting was about to pass, Rossi's phone began to ring. He quickly dug it out of his pocket. "Rossi," he answered gruffly.

_"Dave? It's me," _Hotch's voice came through the speaker of his phone. _"I just got to the scene. Have you heard anything?"_

"Nothing," Rossi replied. "They've been gone for about ten minutes, but no one's come out to tell me anything. What have you found at the crime scene?" Since they seemed to be four agents short, Rossi thought the best he could do to help was go over the details of the case with Hotch. After all, there was nothing else to say about Reid and JJ.

_"Absolutely nothing," _Hotch answered, frustration clear in his voice. _"The only evidence left was a bullet embedded in a wall. I don't even know who the victim was! They couldn't identify her."_

Rossi ran a hand over his face, closing his tired eyes briefly. "Well, have you heard anything from Morgan and Prentiss?"

There was a pause before Hotch said, _"No. But we can't do our job properly if we're four agents down. I'm going to call Morgan, you call Prentiss."_

Rossi nodded, saying, "Sure. I'll let you know if I get ahold of her."

They hung up, and right away Rossi started dialing Prentiss. It rang six times before going to voice mail. He shook his head slightly, wondering where she could be, before he noticed that he was still hearing the ringing in his ear. He shook his head again, trying to stop the ringing, but then he realized the ringing wasn't a leftover side-effect from _his _cell phone. It was somebody else's.

Rossi glanced to his right, but didn't see anyone reach for a phone. He looked the other way, attempting to peer around the wall to see into the other section of the waiting room. That's when he saw something he definitely wasn't expecting.

He saw Derek Morgan, who he'd previously thought to be MIA, get up from his seat in the waiting room and turn his phone off.

Rossi was in such a state of shock that he didn't even notice when he stood from his seated position in the worn hospital chair. He hardly paid the movement any mind. The only thing he was thinking was how the hell did Morgan know about Reid and JJ? Nobody had heard from him, so no one had bothered to call him yet... Except Hotch.

Why had Morgan just hung up on Hotch? Rossi wondered as he began walking toward the other agent. Had it really been Hotch calling him at all? Was Prentiss the one that had been calling him? Was that why she hadn't picked up when Rossi called?

There were so many questions, and Rossi knew that only Morgan could answer them.

"Morgan," Rossi called. He was standing just behind the other man now.

When Morgan heard his name being called, he whirled around to face whoever it was, his hand hovering near his hip. Then he saw that it was Rossi. His eyes widened a bit, and he wondered how the older man knew about what happened.

"What are you doing here?" Rossi didn't wait for an answer, but instead continued questioning him. "Who told you? Was it Strauss?"

"I was there, Rossi," Morgan told him, his voice low and serious. "Who told you?"

"You were there?" Rossi was more confused than ever, and he couldn't help but notice Morgan's rigid stance and the tension in his shoulders. Something definitely wasn't right, but what? It had to be more than JJ and Reid's situation, but what else was there?

Morgan nodded, "She called me, and I-" Morgan was cut off by Rossi asking "She _called _you? When?"

Before Morgan could respond or Rossi could ask more questions, a doctor, a man with short blonde hair, appeared from their left, having just exited some room or another. He happened to only make things more confusing for Rossi when he called, "Family of Emily Prentiss?"

Morgan started walking, very solemnly, toward the doctor, leaving Rossi standing there, dumbstruck. He was beyond confused, and yet, somehow, the whole situation was beginning to make sense. He then hurried to catch up with Morgan, who appeared to be waiting for him, thinking he already knew what happened.

"What happened?" Rossi asked him, his eyes narrowed in concentration, already trying to piece together the different events that had brought the two of them to be where they were now.

Before Morgan could say anything, _another _doctor, this one with shaggy brown hair plus a goatee, walked out of a room and called, "Family of Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau?"

"What the hell?" Morgan exclaimed, his eyes wide in confusion and shock. "Rossi, what is going on?" But Rossi didn't answer, he simply waved the doctor over to where he, Morgan, and the first doctor were currently congregating.

The second doctor wasted no time, he quickly walked over and proceeded to greet his colleague, "Hello, Dr. Matthews." He eyed the group curiously, his day certainly was taking a turn for the more interesting, if not exciting.

"Dr. Jameson," Matthews inclined his head in the other doctor's direction. The two locked eyes for a minute or so before the seemed to resolve what issues they may have had. The seemed to have figured out who was going to speak first as well.

"I'll make this quick," Jameson began, "seeing as how my announcement will take much less time and is significantly less serious." Rossi saw Morgan tense up again at this statement, and was just itching to figure out what the hell had apparently happened to Prentiss.

"Agent Reid and Agent Jareau have regained consciousness," Jameson stated, and Rossi nodded, relieved, but Morgan however, remained just as confused as ever. "There were no major complications to their conditions, only some minor internal bleeding, and a few cuts and bruises, but upon waking up, Agent Jareau was very insistent that her team come see her. It appears she has something very important to say." Neither Rossi nor Morgan decided to correct the doctor by saying that they were _not _JJ's team anymore; because, frankly, they'd always be a family, even if they weren't working together anymore.

"Are they well enough to be discharged?" Rossi asked. He figured it would be best to save Morgan the trouble of explaining what he'd been up to four different times. If JJ and Reid were fine, then he'd only have to spill twice; because someone still had to tell Hotch, and Rossi would prefer to be standing on the sidelines for that particular conversation.

Jameson nodded, "Yes. In fact, I've already discharged them. They're on mild painkillers, but they shouldn't be so strong as to impair their judgment. Though I wouldn't advise putting them in the field just yet."

"Thank you, Doctor," Rossi said, offering his hand. The doctor took it and they said their goodbyes.

Not long after Dr. Jameson had departed, Morgan asked, "What happened to them, Rossi?"

Rossi shook his head, "We don't know. We found them unconscious in the elevator when we were leaving for the Holiday Inn on 7th Street."

Morgan instantly froze up again, but this time he made eye contact with the older agent. Though he didn't say anything, Rossi could tell that something he'd said had held immense meaning for Morgan. If only he'd just explain already!

The remaining doctor took this silence as his cue to speak; he, too, had recognized the location. "And that brings us to Agent Prentiss," he stated. Morgan immediately focused his complete attention on Dr. Matthews, and Rossi proceeded to alternate between glancing at his co-worker curiously and staring at the doctor worriedly.

"My colleague was correct when he implied that I had much more pressing news to deliver," Matthews began, making Morgan cringe, dreading the 'pressing news'.

"Wait," Rossi cut in, unknowingly prolonging the tension, "what happened to Prentiss?" He turned to look at the younger agent next to him, narrowing his eyes, "Morgan?"

There was a beat of silence before Morgan said, "She was shot. At the Holiday in on Seventh."

That's when a new voice yelped, _"What?"_

The two profilers turned around to see a shocked Reid, who was holding an ice pack to his temple with the hand that wasn't restricted by a cast, and a somewhat more composed JJ beside him.

Morgan ignored him, instead asking, "What happened to _them_?"

JJ rubbed at the bandage covering her injury. "Some guy jumped us before we could get out of the elevator," she told them, and because no one had heard this story yet, not even Rossi, all four FBI agents were shocked for their own respective reasons, or rather, three of the agents were shocked. JJ was grimacing, even though the pain had been dulled to just discomfort, and glanced away to hide the guilt in her eyes. No one noticed.

"Well, at least we know you're not suffering from amnesia," Rossi remarked dryly.

Dr. Matthews, having seemingly been forgotten, cleared his throat. Instantly, the four agents were watching him like a hawk. He didn't seem nervous though, and his voice was calm when he said, "So, going back to Agent Prentiss' injury; the bullet entered her chest a little to the left." Reid, JJ, and Rossi sucked in a collective breath; they knew what that meant. The bullet could have very well hit her heart.

_"But," _Matthews continued, "it entered _just above _her heart." This time, all four agents let _out _a collective breath, this one of relief. "The bad news? It tore up just about everything in it's path." And now the group was back to being rigid in anxiety and worry.

"The good news," Matthews started again, his voice bright (giving the impression to the agents that he was toying with them, gauging their reactions for fun), "It _did _exit, as opposed to ricocheting through her body like a game of Pin-ball. And, in the process of exiting, it, surprisingly, did _not _hit any other major organs."

"And how is she now?" Morgan broke in, anxious to know the condition of his partner. The others leaned in intently, just as anxious.

"Ah, well," Matthews went on, "thankfully, we were able to repair the damage the bullet did." Now, the group of people didn't dare let themselves feel relief; they wanted to wait for Matthews to finish toying with them first.

"She's a lucky one," Matthews continued. "And due to the heavy painkillers we put her on, she's out cold, though she should regain consciousness in a few hours."

"Can we see her?" Reid asked nervously.

"Of course," Matthews answered. He handed a small piece of paper to the younger man. "We moved her into a private room; the number is written on that." With that, he bid them good luck and walked away. He'd be back, but he thought he should let these people recover for a bit.

The four people remaining just looked at each other for a bit. Then, Rossi spoke up.

"Morgan, tell us what happened," he ordered, and instead of protesting like Rossi thought he would, Morgan actually complied. He supposed the worry for Emily had worn him down quite a bit.

Morgan then proceeded to tell his co-workers and friends about how he'd gotten fed up with Emily's weird behavior, gone to her apartment only to find out that she'd been living in a hotel for the past few weeks, and called her to get some answers. He explained how Emily made him go through all the cloak and dagger-type motions, and how she'd given him a signal.

"When I asked her if she was in danger," Morgan continued, "she _said _no, but she nodded her head. I pretended to be angry with her for keeping secrets, and she played along. I started to leave when she called my name..."

"And then?" Reid encouraged, "What happened next?" It was almost like it was a story for him, but Reid knew that it was all too real. He wasn't making light of the events; he just wanted to know exactly what had transpired.

"Then she was shot," Morgan ground out through gritted teeth, angered that his friend had gotten shot and he hadn't been able to do _anything. _"The guy that did it... He said his name was.. something; I can't remember what... came up to me pretending to be some innocent bystander," Morgan spat, outrage shining in his dark eyes. "Then, he pulled a gun on me."

"But he didn't shoot," Rossi stated, it wasn't a question. After all, Morgan was standing there before them, and he didn't appear to have any bullet wounds.

Morgan shook his head, "No, but he did pull the trigger, just not on me. The bullet hit the guy that called 911."

"The dead victim at the scene," Rossi thought aloud, the missing pieces of the puzzle finally starting to come together.

"Yeah," Morgan confirmed. "He just knocked me out with..." Morgan paused, unsure, "With something. I didn't see it, but I just assumed it was his gun."

"It could've been a crowbar," Reid suggested, thinking of his own experience with being knocked unconscious.

"What're you getting at, kid?" Rossi queried, thinking along the same lines as Reid, though he didn't know exactly what had happened to the young agent.

Before Reid could speak, JJ interrupted, "I think we need to call Hotch now."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

So they had called Hotch about ten minutes ago, and when pressed for details, his team hadn't told him much. The most they'd said, over the phone, was that Prentiss had been shot and he needed to get to the hospital nearest the crime scene as soon as possible. Hotch had agreed to come without further details, albeit a bit grudgingly.

He'd said there wasn't much to find at the crime scene. It was a simple, efficient shooting. Two blood pools, but only one bullet. The identified victim, George Chan, had died before the ambulance had gotten there. He'd died of a shot to the head. The unidentified victim, who everyone but Hotch knew to be Prentiss, had been driven to the nearest hospital for further medical attention.

It wasn't long after they'd called that the team, plus JJ, saw Hotch walk through the doors of Prentiss' hospital room. They'd relocated there soon after JJ suggested they call Hotch. After which they proceeded to call Garcia. _That _particular conversation hadn't been too pleasant, but she had insisted on coming down to the hospital. She followed Hotch in, the two of them having miraculously met up in the parking lot.

Their team leader took one look at Prentiss, who lay unconscious in a hospital bed, hooked up to multiple machines with a tube stuck down her throat, and demanded answers with a simple glance.

The team didn't hesitate to give them.

Soon, Hotch was caught up on everything that had happened in his absence. To his credit, he didn't show any emotion. Not even once. Though he did look in Prentiss' direction one time, and the others could have sworn they saw a bit of concern flicker in his eyes.

Then, they were back to where they'd left off, and JJ seemed to have something to say.

And she sure didn't hesitate, because she just came right out and told them, "I know who shot Emily."

Silence.

"How?" Hotch asked, finally breaking the silence. There was an eerie calm that had overtaken the room, but the tension in it was almost palpable.

JJ didn't answer right away, instead she said, "When Strauss called me to consult with the BAU on a case, I was going to say no."

"Why, Jayje?" Garcia piped up. She was standing by the left side Emily's bed, opposite Morgan, who had claimed the chair to Emily's right.

"Because," JJ paused. "Because it would've been too painful."

"Then what made you come back?" Reid asked quietly from his spot beside Garcia. He was looking down, occasionally casting worried glances at Prentiss and slightly hurt looks at JJ.

"The case," JJ continued, "involved Emily. Her past..." Here JJ trailed off. Prentiss' past was complicated, and she didn't feel right telling the team about it while she was unconscious. But she knew she had to do it, so she pushed on.

"She didn't spend the last ten years on a desk job with the FBI, like we all thought," JJ continued. "She was working with Interpol, with a unit called JTF-12."

More silence.

"It's made up of agents from different governments. They're profilers, like the BAU, but they use the one tactic we don't." No one corrected JJ when she said 'we'.

"Infiltration," Hotch supplied. His tone was empty of any emotion, but inside, he felt betrayed. How could Prentiss, someone he would trust his life with, not trust him enough to tell him the truth? Hotch got the feeling that the others felt the same way.

JJ nodded, "So, eight years ago, JTF-12 was assigned to profile Ian Doyle," here Rossi and Hotch perked up. "Emily was given a cover, Lauren Reynolds, and she was supposed to pretend to be a weapons dealer. Doyle was the buyer, but in order to bring him down, she had to get closer to him." With that, JJ dove into the rest of the story. How Prentiss played the part of Doyle's 'girlfriend', then faked her own death, and how Doyle was connected to the serial murders in D.C. He'd been stalking her, and now, at the Holiday Inn, he'd finally tried to end it. And failed.

Then, JJ looked at Reid, and said, "Ian Doyle was the one who attacked us in the elevator. He went after me first because he somehow knew that I knew who he was. I'm sorry, Spence, I tried to tell you," she finished with an apologetic look in Reid's direction. He didn't respond, but he wasn't outraged. That was a good sign in JJ's book.

"He's going to try and finish the job," Rossi stated with a quick glance at his sleeping colleague. He couldn't believe how much she'd hidden from them! But even then, when he looked at her, he still saw the same Prentiss he's always known.

"Nonononono!" Garcia exclaimed. "I don't care what she did, that scumbag is _not _going to get anywhere near her!" She moved to stand protectively in front of Emily's prone form on the bed.

"As much as you strike fear into the hearts of hard-core criminals, baby girl, I don't think this guy is gonna care," Morgan said.

"I'll have an agent on guard at all times," Hotch proclaimed, pulling out his cell in order to call Strauss with his request.

JJ shook her head, "The Bureau is trying to keep this whole thing under wraps, they're not going to let you post an agent outside Emily's room until we catch Doyle."

"Then one of us will stay with her," Reid decided. "We're her family, we can protect her." There was a moment of contemplation following his statement.

Rossi shrugged, "I'm in."

Then the others began speaking up, and Hotch couldn't say he wasn't one of them. He didn't like the idea of making his entire team a target, but if the Bureau wasn't going to help, then they would have to take matters into their own hands. Though some of his chauvinistic tendencies showed when he flat-out refused to let Garcia guard Prentiss alone. He insisted that it was because she didn't know how to use a gun, which was technically true.

They split up the guard duties by the hour. When it wasn't their turn to watch over Emily, they would walk through the hospital, looking for any signs of Doyle. First watch went to Hotch, and the hour passed by with no incident. Then, Rossi and Garcia, since she refused to not be a part of the whole thing, came to relieve him. And it was around five in the morning when Morgan came to relieve t_hem_. It would be Reid and JJ's turn next.

Morgan was well over halfway through his shift when he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck. He sat up, ramrod straight, in his chair beside Emily's bed. The hand of hers he'd been holding was dropped. Something was off, he could tell.

He glanced around, but didn't see anything. He brushed off the feeling as paranoia due to what had happened in the last couple of hours. Relaxing back in his chair, he took Emily's right hand in both of his.

He willed her to wake up soon, he wanted so badly to speak to her. He wanted her to tell him everything. It wasn't the same hearing it from JJ. He needed to see the look in her eyes; he wanted to know what she was feeling.

No matter how much she'd hidden, lied, and pushed him away, she couldn't outrun him. Derek Morgan didn't give up on someone he cared about. Sure, he felt betrayed by the woman next to him, and angry too, but she was still 'family'. He wanted to forgive her, but he couldn't do that unless he knew who she really was. That's why he needed to talk with her.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the door open. Then again, exhaustion and his injury to the head might have had something to do with it. He didn't hear it when the door was closed either.

Then, a voice rang out in the darkened room, "Who are you?"

Morgan froze, he knew that voice. He may not remember what the man looked like, but he knew his voice. Deep, masculine, but with an Irish lilt to it. He looked up to see his worst fears confirmed.

Ian Doyle.

The aforementioned proceeded to flick on the light switch, which Morgan had turned off so as to hide Emily's face from anyone that may have been peeking through the windows.

Doyle's face showed that he recognized Morgan as the man he'd pistol-whipped earlier. And judging by the anger that suddenly appeared in his eyes, he also saw him as the man who tried to get between him and what he wanted: Emily, dead.

"Aha," Doyle said, playing it cool while his eyes blazed like the inner circles of hell. "So, you're the lad Lauren has been protecting? Or rather, one of them. She's really got you wrapped around her finger, hasn't she?"

"Her name's not Lauren," Morgan spoke quietly as he rose, trying to keep his own temper under control. He couldn't believe the man that shot Emily had the nerve to come back and try to kill her while she was still defenseless. "The woman you knew is dead." Truer words had never been spoken, though he didn't know it at the time. He was simply telling Doyle that to get him to back down; because he really didn't know whether or not Emily had been pretending with this man, or had she been herself with him, like she was with the team?

"But you're wrong boy," Doyle told him, taking a few steps closer, a malicious smile on his unshaven face. "The woman _you _knew is dead. In fact, she never really existed at all."

"Look, man," Morgan fought the bitter taste of revulsion as he attempted to calm this guy down. He really didn't want to. Really, all he wanted to do was throw a punch right in this guy's smug face. "You're right. I don't know who she is anymore, but you don't either. How about we wait for her to wake up and we'll talk to her?" Yeah, right, Morgan thought, you'll talk to her through prison bars.

Doyle chuckled, "Don't play games with me, _Agent_." Then, almost simultaneously, the two of them drew their weapons.

Morgan had known it was coming. There was no way to talk a guy down when he's that far gone. He'd had to try, and in doing so, buy himself some time. Reid and JJ would be there soon, he just needed to hang in there.

Morgan leveled his gun with Doyle's head. "Don't make me do it," he warned, hoping against hope that the bastard had some sense of self-preservation.

"You won't," Doyle said. "I won't let you; not before Lauren and I have a chance to... catch up." The look in his eyes told Morgan that the last thing he was planning to do was talk. Morgan's grip on his Glock tightened.

"Goodbye, Agent Morgan," Doyle said, and then the shot was fired.

The shot was heard down the hall, where Reid and JJ were headed toward their friend's room. The began running when the heard it. Panic flooding their veins, their heartbeat erratic. Soon they had reached the door, and proceeded to yank the door open.

Inside the room, a man had fallen. Dead. The aim of the gun had been true.

It was too bad that Morgan had been half a second faster.

Reid and JJ stumbled into the room to find Morgan standing, gun in hand, and the body of Ian Doyle on the floor. There was a neat hole in his forehead where the bullet from Morgan's gun had entered.

Reid looked up at Morgan openmouthed, and Morgan quietly said, "It was self-defense."

"We know," JJ assured. She didn't look shocked or anything. Instead, she just looked tired; it had been a rough couple of hours. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Hotch. Though she knew he was probably already on his way, the others in tow.

It was all over. The secrets, the lies, the fear. Emily would set the record straight when she recovered. The team would somehow get over the betrayal of being lied to, and they would forgive her. Some of them had already been set on the path to forgiveness. It was a long road back, sure, but they would be together; because when it all falls apart, there's always a way to pick up the pieces again.

And the BAU would put those pieces back together as more than a team. They would do it like the family they were.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**I sincerely hope you all enjoyed the conclusion of "When It All Falls Apart". I would love to know your thoughts on it, and especially what you thought about the end. (I thought it was a little rushed, but it felt kind of... right, I guess)**_

**_Frankly, I'd love to hear from you guys about anything. Mostly about CM related stuff, though ;P_**

**_Have a great weekend!_**


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